


Long Needed

by GrumpSupport



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comforting, Cute, Fluff, Helping out, M/M, self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14022735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpSupport/pseuds/GrumpSupport
Summary: Hanzo is in a foul mood after a mission goes haywire. Considering his usual habits of stress relief, he had retreated to nurse his wounds- Until an unexpected guest broke everything down, and gave him a long needed talk.





	Long Needed

A high squeak whispered as the door slid open, almost emphasizing the frustration that had placed itself so sternly in Hanzo’s mind and coiled tightly. _That damn door_ , he thought to himself, his blood still simmering in a low boil. Reality was less than in touch with him in this moment, as anger filled his belly he stood in the middle of his quarters, silently brooding. The metal door creaked closed again, and suddenly the metallic room was dark- the only light coming from the window as it leaked in through the barred over-shield in slats. Even as he kept it so, his room was anything but a calm place for him to be. Left alone with all the thoughts and feelings that had followed him from the mission, the room around him decorated with memorabilia from his Hanamura home only seemed to make matters worse. It was harder to ignore any of his internal struggle when just the very sight of a character scripture, hanging neatly from the far wall gave him flashbacks of the unspoken horror that had once been committed by his own hands. With jolts of uncontrolled memory bursts running at a high velocity through his mind, his normal meditative mantra seemed ineffective, and with a heavy slug of anger he threw his fist into the closest wall. Metal hit metal as his gloved hand struck with force just below one of the few windows in the room. The room took on an even more deft silence, this time without the frustrated huffs of Hanzo’s mind echoing through it. Hanzo felt his shoulders relax, and he was finally able to swallow his thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, he let himself collapse to the small spring bed that was conveniently placed beneath his punch. There was a mark in the metal of the wall that signified his frustrations had been dealt with in a less-than-civil way. He tried to allow himself to relax, pulling the duvet that had been neatly made up over his shoulders, and curling into a sort of fetal position. His mind stewed, stagnant with the thoughts of the mission, and how it had gone wrong. He was still angry, but did not have enough energy to give it his full attention or do anything about it. He was tired from the long trip and the even longer mission. He had been in Overwatch for less than a month, after deciding to see exactly what his ghostly brother was talking about when he warned it was time to pick sides. Hanzo had had his fair share of side-picking, and he wasn’t about to jump into something headlong without first knowing exactly what Overwatch stood for now. He was well aware of their history; he knew he should walk forward with caution. He had so far, found the organization to be pleasant, however small. He felt maybe it was better that it was smaller- Less insubordination, he thought. He joined, even after thinking long and hard about the problems that may come up regarding his former misgivings, but he had never assumed that the only problems he would have would come from his cyborg-brother. He knew they had bridges to repair, but for some reason the construction crew was gone for the time being, and all he felt were impulsive drives to start fights with his undead sibling.

He sighed, the light leaking into the room waving its intensity to spotted cloud coverage. He gave up on being angry, and was now settled in numb despair that he had half a mind to drink away. He wasn’t in a place to argue with himself, especially after his last attempt at doing so. He gave in, raising himself lazily and uncaring, he had just slumped out of the bed in a near crawl before an electric _ding_ had sounded from the console near the entrance to his room. He sighed after a moment of consideration to ignore whoever was at the door. _Who could it possibly be_ , he ranted in his head. With an audible grumble- perhaps a little louder than he meant, not that he cared- he made his way to the console and clicked a button. The heavy doors swung open with the same creak, and before Hanzo could damn the contraption, or before he had a chance to be grumpy about unwanted company he was first very surprised.

It was Jesse McCree. Hanzo did a mental double take, his eyes left in a confused gape along with his mouth; frozen in the process of complaining loudly his distain from being disturbed. All thoughts flushed from his mind, he found himself confused. The cowboy tipped his hat and smiled, somewhat awkwardly.

“Beggin’ yer pardon darlin’, but thought I might drop by to see how you were doing.” Jesse gave the archer a once-over, “Y’all right?” He asked calmly, a smirk briefly skirted his face- no doubt a knowing one that told he knew that Hanzo was very much in an uncomfortable place. Jesse seemed amused at the prospect of the perfectionist archer being messy and uncaring.

“Yes.” Hanzo blandly replied, his first instinct to throw up the defensive walls he has built around himself. Realizing his manners, he stood up straighter, tightened the loose _kyudo-gi_ around his chest, and graciously bowed his head. “While I appreciate your concern, it is unnecessary. I simply need some time alone to sort things out. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

Damn, too quick was the cowboy on his words. “Oh come on, partner.” Jesse’s attitude changed now. He knew this façade all too well. “Listen here Shimada, you may not’ve been here for long, but don’t gimme that shit.” Jesse stepped one step into the archer’s room.

Hanzo was taken aback at his change in character; he had never seen the man like this before. He had always been so light and charming. Now he was down-to-business, serious and insistent. “I-” His words fumbled before his mind could catch up.

Suddenly the archer and the cowboy were standing in a tense, dim atmosphere. The rest of the world melted away. Hanzo felt a feeling he hadn’t felt in over a decade. He was open; completely and utterly unguarded. He had never felt so vulnerable before in his life. Catching these feelings in his hand that closed into fists, he broke eye contact and looked away, regaining his defensiveness.

“I am fine.” He insisted, frustration edging his voice. His gaze was low into McCree’s eyes, who stared right back at him with burning intensity. “You do not have any need to worry, I do not need anyone else to fight my battles for me-”

_Slam!_ McCrees hand was on the wall next to him, a dent scratched into the wall- That makes two, now. “Dammit Hanzo!” He cupped his brow in his other hand and sighed heavily. After a breath and a second, he disengaged his anger, realizing it wouldn’t make the situation any better. “Just,” He started again, softer this time. His voice was smooth as honey, and his drawl sounded low and desperate for attention. “Sit.” He pointed to the bed, standing with a hand on his hip as if a disappointed parent would with a misbehaving kid. Hanzo was too fed up or tired to argue with the man- if he really had to he would retrieve his Sake and drown the man out with the warm bite of spirits.

Hanzo sat on the edge of the bed, a defeated hunch wrapped around his normally posh posture. He had indeed retrieved his Sake flask, but had only just opened it when Jesse sat next to him and took the thing right out of his hands. Hanzo was about to protest, until Jesse hushed him with a finger in the air as he gently placed the flask to the side, “Don’t.” He warned.

Hanzo didn’t protest, but instead crossed his arms and sat, fed-up and indignant. Jesse sighed again as he settled and ran his hands over his face, massaging his temples. “What makes you think you ain’t gotta be a team player?” He finally started, stress still emphasizing his drawl.

“Excuse me?” Hanzo clarified. Was he really going to do this? Here and now? “I believe I joined Overwatch out of my own will. I have trained and fought with many of you at my side, hardly ever straying from our mission plans. To what you are referring, I haven’t a clue.” He hisses.

“I ain’t talkin’ about missions. Missions go sideways, people get hurt; Hell it ain’t too uncommon to accidentally wound a teammate. Missions are open-ended, and subject to changin’ in the turn of a minute.” He explained, somehow seeming angrier than before, “No, what I’m talkin’ about is this little ‘Lone Wolf’ charade you got goin’ on.” His hands dropped from the air quotations he had just made for emphasis. He really did sound like a disappointed father.

Hanzo knew exactly what he was talking about, and said nothing. This is how Hanzo had been for a decade, and he wasn’t used to socializing. He didn’t want more people in his life; to him it just meant more bones to bury later on. He remained still and quiet, refusing to gaze at McCree.

Jesse shook his head after a minute, “See this is exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Ya’ won’t open up to me, or anyone else for that matter! The one person on this rock that you know, you fight with ninety-nine percent of the time!” He looked to the archer, who had seemed to tense up his shoulders at every word said- he was practically holding himself.

Jesse’s frustration had gotten the better of him at first, but in a flash he realized he was being too harsh on the man. It surprised him, since Hanzo was always such a hardass, stern and serious man. He supposed everyone was different in their time of weakness. After another beat of silence, he placed a comforting and soft palm on Hanzo’s back, and offered support.

“Look, I know it wasn’t easy comin’ here. Especially with your brother here… I know y’all had a really rough past… I know you been on your own for a while but…” He leaned in, trying to catch Hanzo’s eyes. He won, and Hanzo finally spared his sorrowful gaze to Jesse. His chestnut eyes glassed over by the essence of tears. Jesse was visibly struck back by the sudden break in the man’s stoicism. Jesse’s own face twisted into one that said sympathy, rather than pity or amusement- a nice change of character Hanzo noted in the back of his mind.

“Oh, shoot sugar, what’s goin’ on… You know you can trust me, right? Please, you gotta get whatever it is that’s buggin’ you off your chest.” He wondered if the next words on his tongue should be spoken or not, but immediately decided they needed to be. “Otherwise, missions might go haywire like they did just this last one…” The words were slow and factual rather than accusing. He had won that round, not angering the archer.

The archer tore away at himself, cursing himself for opening up to someone, but deep down he felt relieved that there was someone who wanted to take his problems seriously. Deep down, he wanted someone to comfort him. He had missed comfort, and understanding for mostly all of his life. He felt selfish for finally having to share the burden of his load, rather than carry it with him as a reminder of his mistakes. His father’s words echoed through his head, _Weak, failure, unworthy, needy_ , driving an emotional stake through his heart that made it agonizingly ache.

“I…” He hesitated. Closing his eyes, he convinced himself that he could trust the man. “I cannot sleep…” He started, his voice slow and sounding as if he was balancing between calmness and breaking down the dam in his mind. “I dream of nothing but my brother… When I killed him.” His voice was beginning to give into the crack of sorrow, and he turned to look at McCree who seemed to mimic his sadness.

McCree didn’t push him away, or scream at him upon learning this. “You’re the one that did that to him…” McCree noted to himself, a tone of surprise edging his voice.

Hanzo nodded, pain seared his mind, “I was young and foolish… I was blindly loyal to my family… So blind that I killed the only one who actually cared for me.” He cupped his head, pulling his hair and resting his elbows on his knees. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see is blood… So much blood…” His gaze was long- caught in memories.

“I can feel every slice… The resistance of my blade as I slashed at my brother’s skin… Tearing limbs and muscle…” His voice was low and steady. He was the type of calm that felt wrong. “And the screams… The pain…” He shivered and closed his eyes, covering his face and escaping the memories.

McCree was stunned. He didn’t know what to say or do. He would have never guessed that Hanzo of all people would be carrying such guilt, such self loathing. 

“I should not be alive.” Hanzo concluded, his voice wrought with sorrow and disgust. His face twisted again in agony, and he curled his legs to his chest resting his back against the wall. “For all I’ve done… I should be the one that died, not my brother! He does not deserve what I have done to him!” He groaned, his voice trembling and cracked. 

McCree was worried now. He knew a thing or two about guilt from the past. He hugged closer to Hanzo, his arms framing the man’s shoulders. “Now hush, ya know that ain’t true.” He squeezed the man in a comforting way, begging his mind to come back to reality. “Ya know we’ve all done shit that keeps us up at night.” He rubbed the man’s back with his flesh hand.

Silence fell over the room, the only thing breaking it was the consistent huffs of the weeping man trying to catch his dignity. “It’s okay Hanzo, you don’t gotta hide from me. Let it all out. I know where you’re at.” He sighed. After a minute, he continued his preaching, not needing any signal of acknowledgement to know that Hanzo would be better after some of his own consoling.

“I’ve done bad shit too. Everyone in Overwatch has got somethin’ they’re guilty about; that don’t mean you can’t make it better. You talked about it when you first got here, how you wanted to try and reconcile for your past.” He looked at Hanzo who had relaxed his position, exposing his face and puffy red eyes. “I thought that was pretty noble, if ya ask me.” He smiled and laughed through his breath softly. Hanzo looked to him, his eyebrows raised in a surprised and timid gaze.

“Listen, pardner,” Jesse sat back with Hanzo against the wall and looked him in the eyes. “There ain’t enough time in someone’s life to trip over all your mistakes; ‘less you don’t want to have any goodness in it. You might’a been a really shitty person, and you might’a done some really shitty stuff in the past, but the truth is I don’t see that person sittin’ here in front of me now. That person didn’t join Overwatch to continue to be a shitty person. You joined because you wanted to make a difference.” His gaze was intense in Hanzo’s glazed eyes.

“It might not mean much to ya’, but you got my support. It takes a lot of gall to persevere through somethin’ like that.” He says, matter-o-factly. Hanzo, wide-eyed and gaping looked at the man in front of him. He resisted to admit to himself that his cheeks had grown rosy, but his face told a different story. He shook it off after a minute and considered the kind words.

“You have been so kind to me… Ever since I landed here.” He began slowly, his cracked voice recovering from it’s break. His heart leapt as his own realization showed through and before he could catch them, “If I am honest…” stumbled from his mouth. He paused. McCree, after a second of waiting, looked expectantly at Hanzo. “Huh?” an eyebrow raised in query.

Hanzo hesitated, “Uh…” He huffed softly, sitting up in a more personable manner. Swallowing his fear, he gathered the courage and spoke before he could go back on his words.

“If I am honest,” He started again, this time more confidently, “You have given me something that I didn’t know I was missing… Something that I have never had before…” His voice was soft, and his eyes cast down in a shyness that made McCree shiver. McCree inched a little closer, catching every syllable of every word said. His body grew hot, and his lungs filled with helium and stomach with butterflies.

“Did I?” McCree stuttered over his words, a soft smile stretching across his blushing cheeks.

“Yes. You did.” Hanzo looked up at the man, who was now sitting adjacent to him. He gazed into his eyes meaningfully. “It is unfair of me not to tell you.” Pulse rising, and heart fluttering away, Hanzo felt insecure. Exposed again, only this time he was okay. 

“You have given me companionship… understanding. Since the beginning of my new crusade, you have been friendly and supportive of me- forgiving my mistakes when I make them again.” He stuttered, finding the next words in his head, “You have given me a shoulder to lean on. Something I have never had. Partnership.” Hanzo met intense, hazel eyes. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest, his face was hot and flustered. Part of him wanted to retreat and run away like he always had, but the other part- the part that the cowboy had pointed out, wanted to give in. He was tired of playing his own games. Tired of feeling hopeless, and inadequate. Tired of waking up in the middle of the night with half a mind to pull out a gun, point it at his temple and relieve himself of this life.

“I…” Hanzo started again after their gaze had locked. His throat locked up; he couldn’t force the words to come out. He broke his gaze, closing his eyes and remembering back to all the lingering feelings he had for the man. Wanting to push closer to him from the beginning, finding his charm and flame endearing. Hanzo knew, deep down, that he was attracted to Jesse from the beginning. The man had a way with persistence, wrapping his affection around you like a nice aroma.

“Hanzo?” McCree’s soft voice forced his eyes back to reality. A thumb and forefinger gripped softly around Hanzo’s chin, forcing a truthful gaze between the two of them. Their breath brushed against each other in a heated clash. Their eyes did the talking for them in the silence, both taking in the detail of each other’s face. McCree was freckled, darker spots against browned skin. His hair seemed unruly and heavy with natural grease. His breath was smoky, and somehow always held a tinge of whiskey to it. His eyes looked like they belonged to someone old with experience; his under-eye brushed with wrinkles and bags that twisted when he smiled. Hanzo drank in his smell, and his warmth. He wished he could always remember this face in perfect detail- the face of the man who was always so kind to him. 

After leaving the world behind them, Jesse’s voice broke their silence. Soft and drawled, he asked with no sense of pressure and an innocence that struck tingles into Hanzo’s heart. “May I kiss you?” The man’s voice was quiet, and soft; drawling in all it’s southern charm, entrancing and seducing.

Hanzo’s heart drops. He feels the trails of sensation that are left behind as Jesse brushes soft, gloved hands through his hair. He closes his eyes, giving in and leaning into the man’s gentle pull. This is what he had been so hopefully dreading. An attachment, something else to keep track of, yet something that distracts him. He lets himself go, giving into the temptation of Jesse’s lips. A feeling of warmth rushes over him, traveling through his whole body. Their lips touch, softly and slowly taking in one another’s gentle affections. McCree huffs through a break in the kiss to bite his lip softly, looking coyly into Hanzo’s eyes and mumbling a _God damn_ under his breath. 

To Hanzo’s great satisfaction, Jesse pulls him back in for another gentle kiss, this time venturing further, nipping at his soft, peach lips. Hanzo allows a small moan to escape, temporarily indulging himself in the pleasure. He feels high, and dream like. As if in the next few moments he will wake, and find himself alone and drunk in his barrack. But reality starts to come back to the man, and tenderly he pulls away from the cowboy, placing a firm hand, open on his chest plate.

Hanzo clears his throat, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispers through a cracked and ruined voice.

McCree holds Hanzo by the hand on his chest, “What’s wrong, pumpkin?” He offers, softly still chary of their new, blossoming connection. 

Hanzo ceases to talk at first, gripping the silence like an old addiction. He finally speaks after McCree takes his hand and begins kissing up his decoratively inked arm. “I… _Can’t_.” He finally says, looking to Jesse, hoping he would cease and walk away before anything else might happen. Of course, that is not what happened.

“Hanzo, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this to happen,” Jesse purrs sweetly, caressing Hanzo’s waist. “I think… I’m sure you feel it too. The gazes that are just slightly too long, the hidden smirks, the heavy breaths when I get real close to ya’. I can’t just be imagining it, right?” He drawls, pleading, sweet as honey.

Hanzo shakes his head. No, this cannot be allowed. He cannot allow himself this experience. It would be too forgiving on himself, and he does not deserve this type of affection. “I do not want this…” He finally says, softly and hurt.

Jesse lets up, backing away from Hanzo to give him space. “Oh…” He considers, “Well, shit then, Shimada…” He scratches his head, guilty and embarrassed. “Well shoot, you shoulda just said so…” He lets out a painful _ach_ in self reprimand.

Hanzo’s insides twist with guilt, _I have made him hurt_ , he chides himself. “Wait, Jesse” He starts, desperate for his touch again. His emotions mix and stir in a stupor inside his mind, waving in cycles of self-hate and absolute need. Conflicting poles, battling for dominance over his actions, repulsed by one another like the same sides of magnets. “That is not true… You were not imagining it.” Hanzo says without falter. He looks McCree straight in the eyes, a soul-piercing gaze that entraps the cowboy fully, holding him on the cusp of reality and imagination. His gaze wanes, and he relaxes, “I just never gave myself the chance to open up.” His eyes met Jesse’s again, the man had come closer again, “I lived as if I was a dead man walking for a decade. I lived with the goal of redemption and nothing more. I never thought I would allow myself to have affection for someone again. I would surely hurt them just as I always have.” He was holding back tears, trying, and failing to mask his pain from Jesse.

Jesse’s brows fold in empathy, he gently pushes into the archer’s space, and embraces him. Their body heat collides, taking Hanzo in completely, and surrounding him in a closed system of affection and adoration. He is safe in McCree’s arms; from the world, and from himself. Never has he felt so comfortable with another.

“Darlin, we all make mistakes. You ain’t gonna hurt me none, I know it. You being here- lettin’ me in- is proof of that.” Jesse whispers to Hanzo in a serenade as he gently nips at the space just below the archer’s sculpted jaw. Hanzo allows it, letting himself enjoy the little he would allow. But discomfort won him over in the end.

Cupping McCree’s chin up to his face, he kissed him softly. “While I appreciate this…” He felt guilty for not being able to push the discomfort away. But as if Jesse could read his mind, he caressed the archer’s cheek softly, “It’s okay. You ain’t gotta do nothin’.” He smiled sweetly, kissing his forehead. 

Jesse rose to his feet, resettling his clothes. “Anyways, if you need me, you know where to find me. My door is always open for you, darlin’.” He tips his hat and started towards the door before a small “Jesse,” muttered from behind stopped him. He turned to meet a rather embarrassed looking Hanzo.

“Could I ask you a favor?” He scrunched up in discomfort, obviously forcing himself to speak. Jesse turned entirely to Hanzo, “O’course.”

“Could you stay? For tonight?” Hanzo asked timidly. He allowed himself to miss the warmth that McCree had offered, and decided that he would have a better time sleeping through the night if he had that warmth around him. It would be nice, and familiar. Something to just melt into, no worries or needs had to be attended to.

The cowboy smiled again, taking his hat off and waltzing over again to Hanzo. He sat down on the bed again. “Course I will, darlin’. Anything for you.” He chuckled.

That night when Hanzo settled down in his bed, Jesse cradled him in his warmth, encompassing him and silencing all of his troubled thoughts, and allowing him to get the first good night of sleep in ages. Hanzo had started to realize just what it meant to be a redeemed person. Not to hate yourself because of your mistakes, but to make your life better by helping other people and making connections and moving on. It was going to be tough, but with Jesse at his side, Hanzo carried more hope than he had before. He felt, even just for this moment, at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, there was definitely an alternative ending that I was gonna go with, but with the advice of a very nice group of people, we decided that including an NSFW scene would have distracted from the intended purpose of the piece. So instead, have some nice fluff and feel-goodiness :D 
> 
> Poor Hanzo, holding himself to an unfair standard to resist the nature of being a human with feelings. This is slightly (okay more than slightly) reflective of what happens to me every now and again.


End file.
